“Kit! Solicitors don’t speak like that!”
“This solicitor does when he’s speaking to you. Answer the question, love.”
If she caught the slip, she made no sign of it. “Yes,” she whispered. I yanked her lips back to mine at the same moment my fingers found the soft petals of her sex. I had never been so aroused, nor so full of love. The combination left me dizzy and weak.
I had to make her love me. I had to.
Guided by instinct and little else, I slipped my fingers along the wet heat. There was something heady about the knowledge that I’d done at least this right. She wouldn’t be dripping on my fingers if I hadn’t.
Her breath caught when my finger rubbed her pearl. I doubled back, gently tracing it. “Yes?” I asked, keeping the distance between our lips as small as possible. I hoped the desperation wasn’t as clear in my tone as it sounded to my ears.
“There.” One of her hands lowered to clasp my wrist, holding me in place.
“Like this?” I drew a delicate circle with my thumb over the precious spot that was giving her pleasure.
“’S perfect.” Her hips helped me along, swirling and pressing in ways that offered hints about pressure and direction.
Her hair was a tangled halo around her, the pins she began the trip with scattered to who knew where. Sweat glistened on her temples. The skin of her neck and chest were reddened from my attentions. I should have—if only for her comfort—stopped, but the sight didn’t induce the guilt it ought to have. No, it was evidence that I was here, thatIhad Lady Davina writhing against my lips. Kit Summers, solicitor, was here. It was a possessive kind of pride that I would never admit to aloud.
By all objective measures, she was a mess. She was also so beautiful, taking her pleasure in me—from me—that my heart actually ached.
“Davina,” I breathed, catching her hooded gaze. I switched my fingers for my thumb seamlessly. I curled my fingers up, just glancing against her entrance. “Yes?”
“Yes. More...” And that was all the permission I required. Davina’s surprised cry overtook my gasp as her eyes fell shut.
“God, look at you. Never seen anything so exquisite. You should always look like this. Always.”
She reached out, grabbing me into a filthy kiss as my hand worked between us. Davina was generous with me, rocking against my hand in a way that pleased her until I found the right combination of fingers and thumb.
“There!” Her lips ripped off mine on a panting breath. I would doanythingfor her to hear that again. I worked against her—with her—to give her what she needed. We could do this forever, until the sun ceased to rise, and it wouldn’t be enough.
Her motion faltered and a frustrated cry broke from her chest. I caught her hip in my free hand, returning her to the pace that worked for her.
My lips found her throat, licking the beads of sweat glistening there. Anything to keep from proposing again, the words desperate to spill from my lips. But who could blame me?Who could see Davina like this—feel her like this—and want anything short of forever?
“Are you going to peak for me? I want to see you fall apart in my arms.” I needed it more than air. Even if she refused to wed me, she would think of this moment, dream of it, always. I would dream of nothing else.
“Kit, I?—”
“What do you need? Tell me and I’ll do it.”
“Harder?”
I shifted the angle of my thumb and the force of my fingers. “Like this?”
She nodded, pulling my mouth toward hers. Halfway there, she was seemingly distracted by a spark of pleasure because she gasped and threw her head back.
“So sweet, telling me what you need,” I muttered, then found the peak of her breast with my tongue. A hand fisted in my hair, the tug just shy of painful and somehow leaving me even more aroused than I was a breath before.
I was going to marry this woman. I had to. One taste of her pleasure and I was addicted. My chest ached with the possibility that this might be the only moment I had.
Desperation to please her, to show her how incredible we could be together, warred with the need to draw this out, to extend every last second of this moment because I might never have another.
“Davina, God, Davina. I… Please,” I begged, more desperate than she was. “Please.” I pleaded into the skin of her throat.
Instinct had me quirking my fingers, sheathed inside her, just so. Davina’s cry was wordless and full of agonized pleasure, her walls fluttering around my fingers as she shuddered against me. Or perhaps they was my shudders.
Her face was buried in my shoulder, her breath warm and damp against the thin fabric of my shirt.
